


Bar Room Blitz

by 8BitSkeleton



Category: Funhaus (Video Blogging RPF)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 02:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11636730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8BitSkeleton/pseuds/8BitSkeleton
Summary: So, a guy walks into a bar after having a shitty day. The bartender is a cool dude who comes onto him. The bathroom floor is, luckily, not that dirty.(Enter punchline here.)





	Bar Room Blitz

**Author's Note:**

> the first part of this came in the form of an anonymous ask on [my blog](http://kovntag.tumblr.com) which i have since deleted but it will forever live on in this fic. godspeed anon. this is officially our collab.

The lights are low in the shabby little bar Adam enters in seek of shelter from the rain. There's music playing in the background, he thinks it might be country -twangy guitar sounds and all- but really, the volume is not turned up loud enough to be sure. Adam's glad of it, too. His day was as shit as they come and the rain was just the tip of the iceberg. All he wants right now is his peace and quiet and this place seems unobtrusive enough. His wet leather jacket weighs heavy on his shoulders.

Adam pulls out a bar stool and unceremoniously drops down on it. The place is rather empty for a bar considering the hour, but Adam supposes the unkind weather probably keeps away any usual patrons this place might have.

Taking a deep breath, he pulls out his phone to check for messages. Nothing. Apparently fate is not merciful enough to grant him a distraction. Well, alcohol it is. He knows he won't be able to afford much, so he'll have to make it count.

As Adam glances over at the bartender, their gazes meet. It sort of comes as a surprise when Adam realizes that the other man can't be much older than him. With short, black hair that's obviously carefully tamed with product, a pair of nerdy glasses, and a meticulously buttoned shirt, he looks more like an engineering student than a bartender. There's something in his eyes that holds onto Adam's attention and refuses to release it; a spark maybe, something watchful, something knowing. His rude staring gains him a clearly self-deprecating smile- no, it's a smirk and, damn, Adam didn't know people could even make that expression. It looks good on him, is the thing, very much so.

When Adam can finally tear his eyes away, the bartender is standing in front of him, hands busy cleaning a tumbler with a dry rag. "What can I do for you?" he asks, and he's close enough that Adam can smell his aftershave. Adam doesn't blush, he's simply not the type to, but were he, perhaps he would. His throat feels a little rough though when he orders his jack-and-coke.

Inwardly, he's shaking his head at himself. This is not at all what he came here for. He wanted to be left alone with his failures for a while, stew in his own self-hate. Now he's suddenly more interested in watching steady hands expertly pour his drink. There's something hypnotising about it, or calming, anyway.

For a college student who's been part of the occasional hook-up, Adam's remarkably unconfident in his flirting skills. It makes him wish fervently that they'd met on a dating app instead. Also maybe on a different day. Adam can't imagine that he's looking too hot right now, with his trademark _I'm-dead-inside_ expression, the soaked clothes and messed up hair.

He sighs, takes another deep breath and looks up at the bartender again— who is watching Adam curiously.

The guy asks, "You alright there, buddy?"

Adam snorts. "Yeah, just peachy. Thanks," he says, both in reply to the question and for his drink that the bartender placed in front of him.

It earns him a raised eyebrow. There's just no way he makes for good conversation this evening and he curses himself for it. It would have been nice to get one good thing out of this rotten day, he thinks. Would have. Adam raises the glass to his lips and swallows, imagines he can already feel the effects of the liquid on his body, wishes for it maybe. The bartender is still looking at him. Surprisingly he seems to not have lost interest yet.

"I'm Lawrence," the guy- Lawrence says, and he smiles genuinely this time.

“Adam.”

“So, Adam, how was your day?”

Adam gives a mirthless chuckle. “Shit as they come, Lawrence. How was yours?”

“Slow as they come. What happened to you?”

“College,” Adam intones before he takes a hard gulp of his drink.

Lawrence makes a noise as if agreeing. “Don’t worry. Your day can only get better from here. I know mine has.”

Adam resists lifting an eyebrow. Is…nah, they’re not even five minutes into a conversation, there’s no way to actually prove that Lawrence is flirting with him. Adam lets it go for now.

He asks, “Yeah? Do wet, scruffy, jackasses asking for drinks usually make your day better?”

Chuckling, Lawrence answers honestly, “Gotta say, I don’t get many of those here to begin with. But so far?” he unsubtly looks Adam up and down, looking like Adam has something he wants. And yep. That’s definitely flirting. Yep. “So far, yes.”

Adam feels a blush heat up his cheeks. He takes another big swig of his drink in lieu of a response.

 

* * *

 

 

An hour later, Lawrence is proving to be better company than Adam first gave him credit for. They’ve gotten into two arguments already: one about which Batman movie is the best and one about what constitutes a closed ending in a video game. Adam has left his second drink go warm and watery between his hands because he’s so, for lack of a better word, _enraptured_ by Lawrence. He's so taken by the way Lawrence’s voice goes low when he gives a side-note; by the way he goes on a tangent so easily; by the way Lawrence gestures with his hands so wildly and charmingly.

It feels more like a date than a bartender-customer scenario. The comparison makes Adam’s breath go funny. The bedroom eyes Lawrence keeps giving him don’t help, either.

At the tail end of Lawrence’s last sentence where he closes his thought on video game bosses, there’s a comfortable silence. Adam fiddles with the glass between his hands.

Lawrence looks over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. When he turns back, he says, “Last call. Can I get you a refill?”

Adam waves him off. “I’m good.” Then, on a split-second decision, he asks “Can I buy _you_ a drink?”

The soft noise Lawrence makes sounds like surprise and endearment all rolled into one. “How’d you know the way into my heart?”

While Adam shrugs, trying to play it cool, Lawrence grabs himself a glass, fills it with ice, pours himself a clear alcohol, vodka maybe, or rum. He clinks the rim of his glass on Adam’s glass. Says, “Bottoms up.”

Adam stifles a chuckle and shakes his head. “No way. If you want to, I won’t stop you.”

Lawrence barely shrugs, says, “To each his own,” and he downs his glass in a few, efficient gulps, the ice rattling in the cup. Adam tries not to stare at the length of his throat as he tilts his head up. He fails, of course, especially with how the line of Lawrence’s neck paves the way down to the two open buttons at the top of his shirt, revealing the soft-looking skin underneath.

A glass smacking down onto the wood bar snaps him back into reality. He blinks owlishly, almost ashamed of being caught. A smile blossoms on Lawrence’s lips, betraying his intentions. Adam knows he knows that Adam was staring. No big.

There’s a pointed silence where Lawrence lets his smile linger on his face, looking away from Adam just to let Adam admire him, seems like.

But then, Lawrence looks him in the eye again, fingers drumming on the edge of the bar. Clears his throat before saying, “Listen, I, I like you.”

Adam lifts an eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting to hear _that_ out loud.

Undeterred by Adam’s eyebrow, he continues, “So I told myself I wasn’t going to, y’know, ruin this by asking. But….”

Adam can’t help lifting another eyebrow. “Asking what?”

Nervous fingers continue to drum on the bar. “How… do you feel about blowjobs in bar bathrooms?”

“Oh.” Oh well. Adam’s stomach bottoms out, feeling a blush rise on his cheeks. “Well usually, I don’t imagine them being done by the bartender himself.”

“I’m full of surprises. Namely, this one.” Adam watches as Lawrence leans over the bar, into Adam’s space, and then, oh, yeah, Lawrence is kissing him. That’s, hoo boy, that’s a kiss.

Adam presses into the kiss, feeling almost overwhelmed already.

 

* * *

 

 

They come crashing into the bathroom, a tangle of limbs and lips.

Adam has never been in here and he's not about to start analyzing the place now, with his body pressed to Lawrence's against the door of the bathroom. It seems to be multi-stalled though, because Lawrence has to do some maneuvering to get Adam’s thighs to hit the edge of a sink.

The fact that there’s dingy white tile on the floor is the only thing that ends up sticking in his head because just after Lawrence does something particularly crafty with his tongue in Adam’s mouth, he pulls back, licks his lips, drops down to his knees in front of Adam. And that’s the sight Adam wants to keep in his brain forever, holy fuck. The sight of Lawrence, a man he has just met _tonight_ with his glasses halfway down his nose, hair a mess, and lips kiss-swollen is… like a dream. Is Adam dreaming? He must be, because he never does things like this. It’s just not like him, it’s out of chara-

Oh _fuck_. Adam’s train of thought derails disastrously as Lawrence cups his dick through his jeans. He’s half-hard already, the mere prospect of doing something _like this_ , has him on edge, excited, turned on. He takes in a breath as Lawrence rubs him softly with one hand while the other tries to undo Adam’s pants. It’s a challenge, yeah, and Adam isn’t above helping him. With shaky hands, he takes over, unbuttoning his pants and zipping down, and, _god_. The way Lawrence looks on so patiently, eyes open and waiting, makes the whole thing seem more wanton than it should be.

As soon as Adam’s hands clear out, Lawrence takes over, pushing Adam’s jeans and underwear down enough to get a hand around the base of Adam’s dick. The cool air hits his lower half, and he barely has enough time to register it before Lawrence strokes his hand up, then smooths it back down. It feels—good. He lets out a soft moan that could be passed off as an exhale. It’s a few strokes later, he’s been raised to fully hard, when he finally chances a glance down, rather than staring at a piece of graffiti on the stall in front of him.

He feels a shock go up his spine because as soon as he looks down he locks eyes with Lawrence. He realizes that _wow_ , Lawrence has been watching him, his face, his reaction, and it all makes his breathing kick up a notch. He’s about to ask Lawrence something, make a joke, _anything_ , because the moment is getting a little too intense—but Lawrence just leans forward gently, opens his mouth, gives the head of Adam’s cock a slow, all-encompassing lick. Knocks the breath right out of him.

Then, Lawrence does it again, eyes still connected to Adam’s. And, fuck, talk about an intense moment. Adam has to look away for a moment because it’s all getting to be too much—the heat from Lawrence’s tongue and the heat from his eyes and—

Without warning, Lawrence opens his mouth wide, sets his hand on the base of Adam’s dick, and takes the rest of it into his mouth. Adam moans unexpectedly at the feeling of _warmth_ surrounding him. He braces his hands on the sink behind him and takes his focus up to the ceiling, staring at fluorescent lights until he has spots in his eyes.

The rhythm Lawrence sets up with his mouth is almost teasing at first, slow and steady and absolutely torturous. Adam’s thought process goes from _This feels good,_ to _This is really slow_ , to _Holy fuck can I—is this—what the_ — like his brain is short circuiting.

At one point, Adam’s thighs start shaking, not by any fault of his own. It makes Lawrence pause and, for a second, makes his movements stop. Adam means to say “Please don’t stop,” but it comes out as a strangled sort of moan, a pleading sound (he hopes).

Lawrence resumes his movements, a little more hurried. Adam lets out another moan, and it’s then that he can’t _stop_ the noises from coming. He’s making breathy noises, small groans, relishing in the warmth of Lawrence’s mouth, completely aware of the fact that he’s leaking precum into Lawrence’s mouth, but Lawrence doesn’t seem to mind.

Adam feels a hand land on his hand, on one of the ones that has the sink in a death grip. So Adam loosens his grip and lets Lawrence guide his hand to the back of Lawrence’s head. Adam makes a questioning noise then clears his throat, making a conscious effort to ask, “Wha’?”

Lawrence pulls away, lips even redder than when he was kissing Adam, and says, voice a little raw, “Fuck my mouth a little.”

Letting out a surprised laugh, Adam nods. “Okay.”

Lawrence flashes him with a big smile before opening his mouth and taking Adam’s cock in, picking back up on his rhythm. Adam swallows hard, bringing his other hand to run through the short hairs at the back of Lawrence’s head, feeling a push-pull of feelings as he presses down, ruining Lawrence’s rhythm. Though, it doesn’t seem like Lawrence cares very much, judging by the deep moan he emits, rattling in the back of his throat and making Adam press a little harder. When he feels Lawrence press back against his grip, he lets go, hands slipping to the sides of Lawrence’s face, where he feels Lawrence hollow his cheeks out around Adam’s dick, and _holy fuck,_ that’s—that’s really fucking good. He throws his head back choking on his moan. He can’t really help the way his hips roll into Lawrence’s mouth, it’s just all _too good_ —

Again, Lawrence moans around Adam’s cock, and it makes Adam’s body feel as taut as a bowstring, ready to snap. The feeling of Lawrence’s heat surrounding him, and the sound of Lawrence’s moans around him, the way he can still hear Lawrence’s words, the _Fuck my mouth a little—_

Adam takes in a greedy gulp of air, pressing his hips into Lawrence’s mouth once, twice, feeling the warmth spread through him. He barely gets out “Law—rence, I’m, I’m,” before Lawrence is speeding up his rhythm and Adam is letting go of a punched out moan, curling in on himself as he comes in Lawrence’s mouth, his hands twitching at the sides of Lawrence’s jaw.

He feels like he almost whites out for a second or two before coming back to reality, back to the feeling of Lawrence breathing hot and heavy on his hipbone, forehead pressed to Adam’s lower stomach.

Adam swallows hard, breathes hard. Watches as Lawrence presses his palm down onto the outline of his cock, the silhouette of it marked in his jeans.

With little hesitation, he drops to his knees, breathing Lawrence’s air, lips to his, almost touching. His hand overtakes Lawrence’s, pressing down, making Lawrence’s breath hitch, a moan slipping past.

Adam whispers, “Yeah?”

And Lawrence nods, says, “Yes. Please.”

“Like this?” Adam drags his hand up roughly, pressure almost too-much.

Lawrence groans, makes a choked sound at the back of his throat. “Yes.”

Adam nods, kisses Lawrence hard, clacking teeth and biting lips. His hand moves incessantly, on the verge of too rough. He pulls back to watch Lawrence’s face, sees his glasses fogged up with their heavy breathing, his eyes closed. A helpless moan leaves his red lips, a soft “ _Please._ ” Adam speeds up his movements and watches as Lawrence’s eyebrows knit, watches the color rise on his cheeks.

“C—Close, oh, fuck,” Lawrence moans, head lolling back, breaths uneven. Adam smiles to himself and continues his movements, watching as Lawrence’s orgasm overtakes him. His cock under Adam’s hand pulses as he comes, his moan is strung out and overwhelmed.

As he tries to catch his breath, Lawrence leans forward and lays his head on Adam’s shoulder. Adam puffs out a laugh, feels Lawrence smile against him.

Lawrence’s words are muffled as he says, “Well, okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Hope that brightened your day.”

Adam laughs harder, shaking his head. “Thanks for that.”

“I’m big into customer service.”

They both shake with laughter, arms around each other.

“So…” Adam starts. “Bought you a drink. How 'bout dinner?”

“We are really doing this one backwards, aren't we?”

Adam leans back, searching for Lawrence’s eyes. Lawrence is already looking at him, smile on his face.

“I don't think I'd have it any other way.”


End file.
